The Ever Rising Sun
by BleedingTwilight
Summary: As Gawain mourns the loss of his brother, he learns an unexpected lesson from the scout.


**Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognize.**

The Ever Rising Sun

"Gareth was a great warrior, but more than that he was a great brother to all of us. His jokes were a quick as his blades, and his smiles were freely given. Very few could hold their own against Kay in a rage, but Gareth did so without complaint. He took it upon himself to protect the younger knights. His brother may have been one of them, but it was not Gawain who needed watching out for. Gareth knew how to rein in Galahad's compulsive temper without bloodshed, which was a feat in itself. He lived like everyday might be his last, never taking what little he had for granted. He died with his sword in hand like that of a true warrior, and he shall always be remembered as such. So let us now raise our blades to our brother. To Gareth," Arthur said as he stood beside the mound which housed his knight's lifeless body.

The remaining knights stood about the grave with swords raised with Arthur as Gawain stepped forward with his brother's sword in hand and drove it into the mound. The surrounding knights made not a sound as they lowered their blades and bowed their heads to the memory of one of their own. No one other than the knights had been allowed to honor Gareth's passing, but outside the small cemetery stood a good portion of the fort honoring him from afar. Gareth had been well liked by all at the fort, even the Romans had put up with his ribbing. He would be missed by many, but Gawain would miss him most.

Six of the remaining knights stood silent in the force of the British weather as they watched Gawain grieve his brother's passing. Bors and Dagonet stood behind the fair knight ready to catch him if he broke down. Arthur and Lancelot flanked them to the left while Galahad and Kay flanked them to the right. Tristan was the only one missing, though not by choice. He had been sent to warn the nearest fort of the small Saxon party that had attacked the knights while out patrolling the area. He had volunteered to go only because he did not wish to see any of his brothers torn from Gareth's grave. They needed to be there in order to pay final tribute to their brother, Tristan didn't. He could pay tribute to Gareth on his own once he returned.

Gawain stood still in the bitter freezing rain as darkness crept over the land. Twilight was upon them and still no one had moved. They knew that Gawain was beyond reach for the time being, but it was late and they could honor Gareth's memory in the warmth of the tavern. The villagers had long since left and the torches had sputtered and died in the gales and torrents of rain. Arthur stepped forward from his place behind Gawain and laid his hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"Tis getting late, and the weather is only getting worse. We should go in and honor him with our memories," Arthur said gently as he gave the slumped shoulder a firm squeeze.

Gawain spun faster than Arthur thought possible for any but his scout. Gawain threw Arthur's arm off his shoulder and glared with fire in his eyes. "Go then, all of you! Go joke and laugh about the times you had with him. Go bed wenches in his name, and drink till you can't remember why you were drinking to begin with. But leave me be. Don't force me to forget. Don't try to replace him for me with a wench. Go, and leave us alone," Gawain cried out with bitter agony in his eyes. All of them tried not to cringe at the obvious pain in his voice and the torment in his eyes.

Arthur tried to speak again. "We cannot honor his life if we join him in death due to our stubbornness to come in out of the rain," he said as he approached his grieving knight yet again.

"Do not try to talk me into leaving him now. Just leave me," Gawain's voice was broken and only a whisper by the end as he doubled over and crouched by his elder brother's grave. Arthur was at a loss as to how to comfort his knight, his friend.

"Arthur, this is his to come to terms with. We cannot do it for him, and if he does not wish our help them we must honor that. He will come around in his own time and no sooner," Dagonet said to his commander as the other knights began their silent procession back to the fort. Arthur nodded silently as he glanced back at Gawain who lay curled up beside the grave of the last of his kin. Dagonet and Arthur slowly turned and made their way to the tavern to join the other knights in honor of Gareth.

As they entered the tavern they saw the usual table of knights with tankards of ale all across it. "You'd think they've been here for hours, not minutes," Arthur sighed as he made his way over to them. Dagonet just grunted as he took his own mug from the littered table.

"To Gareth," Lancelot called and everyone in the tavern raised their mug whether they were Sarmatian, Roman, or Briton. "A good friend, a great lover, though not so great as myself," Lancelot received a slap from a passing Vanora for the comment, "and a loving brother. May his spirit enchant the greatest of horses for he was of the greatest of warriors." To this everyone drank and cheered. There were no tears as the inhabitants remembered the times they had with Gareth. All sorts would stand up and share their memories. It was as though their differences didn't matter just for this night because they had never truly matter to Gareth, so they would honor him in their respect for one another.

Meanwhile, out in the ice and rain Gawain lay weeping at the foot of Gareth's cooling grave. Though shivers and pain swept through his body, Gawain refused to abandon his brother's grave. Gawain, who was usually just as joyful and fierce as his brother, was reduced to crying like a child hoping that the earth would swallow him up as well. For hours he wept and finally when he no longer had the energy to weep, he met the realm of unconsciousness which was just as cruel as the one of reality. There he had to relieve his brother's death over and over knowing that he could not save him.

Tristan had ridden like a demon against the wind to arrive at the nearest fort before sundown. He was cold and wet as he delivered Arthur's message about Saxon parties scouting the lands. He had denied the offer of a hot bath and warm chambers to rest after his journey. He simply asked for any reply to his dispatch and took his leave. Tristan didn't know why he needed to get back to the fort so desperately. This was not the first time that he had missed a fellow knight's funeral because he had to carry a dispatch to the next fort. Never before had he felt the need to return as soon as possible. When Bedivere had been buried, Tristan hadn't returned from his mission for three days. Tristan rarely saw the death of a brother as a need to gather, drink, and wench. Tristan saw it far more fitting to honor them alone and keep their memory and honor alive by fighting all the harder when he met an enemy.

However, on this occasion Tristan pushed his horse to its limit through the icy wind and rain toward the Wall. He could feel the eyes of the blue demons on him as his mount charged through the forest. He sent a small prayer up to whatever deity was listening that his horse's step would be true and he wouldn't end up in the mud beside a dying companion. Tristan rarely rode so hard after dark for love of his charger and fear of losing it to the stupidity of carelessness.

By the time Tristan reached the outer wall of the fort, the sun had long since set and the moon was nearly at its zenith in the sky, not that one could tell through the clouds. Tristan flew through the creaking gates and rode hard into the courtyard. No one stood to greet him, not even Jols who tried to always be there upon any knight's return. Tristan knew that they were in the tavern and couldn't fault them for that. After all, that was their way of honoring their fallen brothers even if it was not Tristan's.

Tristan didn't bother to go looking for Arthur because the dispatch he had for his commander was nothing that couldn't wait until morning, especially since he wasn't expected back for at least another day. Instead, Tristan settled his mount with warm blankets, water, and hay. After brushing the stallion down, Tristan dragged his wet and weary self toward the small cemetery just outside the village.

Tristan entered the sad group of mounds, holding his fallen brothers, like a wraith himself. The rain pelted down upon him, but he made not a sound as he approached the newest grave. Stopping only a second to glance down at Dinadan's grave, Tristan felt an unearthly peace come over him. He was one of the few men that not only didn't mind staying in the graveyard for long periods but found peace there.

Tristan saw Gawain's quivering form long before he actually reached Gareth's grave. He cursed the others for leaving the young knight out there in nothing but a thin tunic to get him self ill. Tristan could tell that the boy was unconscious and approached carefully so as not to wake him. Tristan removed his own coat and cloak and covered Gawain with them. Gawain's shaking subsided a bit once he had the added protection of Tristan's clothing, but he was still nearly frozen. Tristan being much thinner than most of the knights felt the chill seep into his bones as soon as he removed the cloak, but he ignored it as he did most things that bothered him.

Tristan turned from Gawain and looked down at Gareth's grave which looked to bleed as the mud washed off in rivers that glowed in the distant light of the fort. Tristan had not been close to Gareth once they had reached the fort. Along the journey to the wall, Tristan and Gareth had shared a tent because the boys had been paired off at random. They had not really seen eye to eye even then. Tristan had always been the silent type, not one to rejoice in the company of others, while Gareth was boisterous and took pleasure in good company. They had made good sparing partners because they took out their frustrations with each other on one another.

Gareth had always taken it upon himself to watch out for the younger knights, sometimes even coddle them. Tristan always believed that it was best to let a man develop on his own without the interference of another. If always coddled a man would grow to be dependant on such things. After seeing Gawain and Galahad grow up in service, Tristan was no longer sure if his ideas were correct because both boys (now men) were fierce warriors which their survival attested to. Once they had settled at Hadrian's Wall, Tristan and Gareth never felt the need to speak or be in each other's company. They simply coexisted without true acknowledgment of one another. Even when Gawain had tried to befriend Tristan, neither had felt the need to be near the other. Gawain had given up his pursuit of friendship with Tristan after he realized that his brother and the scout despised each other.

Now, Tristan stood at the grave of the one knight he thought he would never miss. Tristan had wept for Dinadan, avenged Bedivere, drunk for Percival, but he couldn't even think of what to do for Gareth. Gareth, who even though he had never liked or spoken to after their first month's service, he owed his life to. Gareth had struck down a Roman who had threatened to kill Tristan because Tristan didn't answer when spoken too. That was their first night in captivity. Tristan, being a man of honor, had sworn to repay the debt, but Gareth had only laughed saying, "The only way you can repay me is to smile sometime. See the sunlight for once instead of constantly seeing the only cloud in the glorious sky." Tristan hadn't really known what he meant then, and he sure as hell didn't know what it meant now.

"Forgive me, brother, but I have nothing to honor you with. I cannot boast of our friendship or adventures. I cannot even repay the debt I owe you," Tristan whispered to the furious wind. Lightning lit the storming sky as Tristan bent his head back to feel the rain on his face. He looked back at Gawain when he heard the younger man begin to cough and sob again.

"I told you to leave me alone. I don't need your pity," Gawain raged to the shadow standing above his brother's grave. Another stroke of lightning light the sky enough that he could make out a black clad figure and for a moment he thought that death had actually come to let him join his sibling. Then he heard Tristan's unmistakable lilting voice.

"You need not fear my pity, for I have none to give you," Tristan said in his usual growl though it was not as harsh as usual.

"Go away, I want to be alone," Gawain said fiercely trying to hid his sobs from the ever stern scout. He didn't want to look weak in front of Tristan because he knew Tristan always saw him as weak due to Gareth's coddling.

"Someone has to look after you, or you'll be joining your brother sooner than you wish."

"You don't know what I wish. Maybe I want to die. Maybe I want to join Gareth," Gawain said as he began to stand still wrapped in Tristan's cloak and coat.

Tristan let out a low growl of a laugh as he glanced at Gawain's weak attempt at looking strong. "Boy, you don't want to die. You curse life now, but what of the pup? What of Arthur and the others? What of that pretty wench you're constantly chasing," Tristan said as he approached the swaying Gawain.

"What do they matter," Gawain said as he tried to keep his balance.

"They obviously mattered to Gareth if he gave his life for them. We may be just caged animals for Rome's bidding, but no one can choose your fate for you. Gareth gave his life so that you and the others might keep yours. Are you going to dishonor him by letting his death be in vain." Tristan's voice was dead calm, something that always managed to frighten Gawain even if he never showed it.

"How would you know what he died for, you hated each other," Gawain said as he back away from the cold scout. "You don't even care that he died."

"I care," was all Tristan said to that. Gawain scoffed and Tristan growled at the younger man's ignorance. "Just because I don't weep at one's grave, or drink away my sorrows doesn't mean that I don't care. Gareth and I saw differently, but that doesn't mean I don't care that he died."

Gawain could sense the fire burning in Tristan's eyes even without seeing it. If he hadn't been so grieved by his brother's death then he would have known to back down. "You're the kind of cold hearted bastard that wouldn't even notice if his mother died, never mind _my_ brother," Gawain shouted.

Gawain didn't see the fist coming until it had already snapped his head back and had his nose bleeding like a cataract. Gawain's hand went, instinctively, to cup his nose, but before he could touch it he was being held by the neck so that he was gazing into Tristan's deadened eyes. "I noticed his death. I noticed all of their deaths," Tristan motioned around the graveyard with his free hand. "I've seen each knight at his worst as he would sit here just like you, cursing that fact that they lived and the other died. Each mourned differently, but you all have one thing in common."

"And what's that," Gawain growled as he pulled out of Tristan's grasp.

"You all fail to see the fact that sitting here and mourning, cursing the world and the gods, isn't going to change a thing," Tristan said as he began to walk back toward the fort. However, he stopped beside Dinadan's grave.

"Why can't you just leave me alone," Gawain said covering a sob. "You had no problem ignoring me when Gareth was alive, why stop now?"

"I have a debt to repay," Tristan said in only a whisper as now Gawain was the one following him.

"What debt?"

"I will tell you the only thing I ever remember your brother saying to me," Tristan's voice was calm and soothing now as though he was content just sitting at the foot of his best friend's grave. Gawain sat beside him interested in what Tristan had to say. "He told me to smile and see the sun for once. That was my debt," Tristan trailed off as he touched the sword in Dinadan's grave.

"How is that a debt," Gawain asked as his tears began to subside. Tristan wasn't the worst company to have among the dead for he tended to have a greater respect for them than most.

"I didn't until tonight," Tristan said as he ran his hand along the cold metal of the blade. "You're probably too young to remember, but my tribe was wiped out when they came for me. My entire family was killed because of the Romans. My mother and little sister were…" Tristan trailed off again before picking up somewhere else. "I refused to speak to any Romans for fear I would killed them if I had to speak to them. One of them threatened me, but Gareth took care of it. He offered to listen if I needed a friend, but I simply asked how I could repay my debt to him. And that was what he told me."

"Leave it to Gareth to ask for something so stupid in return," Gawain said as he wiped his nose on Tristan's cloak. Tristan just rolled his eyes in disgust.

"It wasn't a stupid request. It was the hardest debt, I have ever had to repay. He didn't mean that I should smile literally; he meant that I had to overcome my grief. The sun does not stop rising just because we cannot see it through the clouds. You'll understand someday," Tristan said as he patted the mound holding his ever resting comrade.

"I miss him, Tris," Gawain said as he watched the scout stand. "I'm forgetting what he looked like already. Next I won't remember all the things we did, or the times he saved my arse. I don't want to forget him; I don't want to move on." Gawain began to cry fiercely once again. Tristan just looked down at the younger man and knelt beside him. Gawain was sobbing into his chest before Tristan could stop him, but Tristan didn't even bother.

"We can't stop what is natural, Gawain. You feel like dying tonight, but in the morning you'll wake to a shining sun. And that little slip of a thing will come looking for you because she's worried about you. And you'll tell her that you're just fine, just like you'll tell everyone else. Because in the morning you'll realize that the sun does indeed rise again and that the best way to honor your brother is to live because that's all you can do for," Tristan said as he held the younger man with a tenderness that few had ever had the chance to see. He sat there until nearly sunrise as Gawain sobbed and soon fell asleep. As the predawn light began to grace the sky, Tristan lifted Gawain into his arms and headed for the barracks. The clouds had cleared sometime during the night, and the sun could be seen rising in the east. Tristan stopped for a moment to watch the pink glow in the sky as the sun made its way over the horizon. A small but graceful smile crept onto his face as he felt the morning air warm his features.

Tristan sat at the knights' usual table with Dagonet and Galahad as Vanora brought out breakfast. The others were still asleep from the previous night's drinking. Galahad sat with his breakfast and a dour look on his face while Dagonet looked pensive as ever. "Is Gawain going to be alright Dag," Galahad finally asked as he played with the food on his plate.

"Can't really say," Dag replied with a defeated sigh.

"He'll be fine," Tristan said as he took a bit of a gleaming green apple.

"How can you be so sure, you didn't see him last night at the cemetery," Galahad snapped at the older knight. Tristan just shrugged and pointed to the door where Gawain was walking in with a pretty wench and a smile on his face.

"Good morning," Gawain said cheerily as he took a seat with the others. "This is Erin, by the way." The girl smiled at them as she sat beside Gawain. Galahad looked bewildered and Dag actually looked surprised.

"Are you alright, what about last night," Galahad asked incredulously.

Gawain smiled and laughed just a bit as he scratched his beard thoughtfully. "I'm fine," he said as he gave Erin a quick kiss as she went to get some food from Vanora. "After all, the sun doesn't stop rising just because we can't see it behind the clouds."

Galahad just looked from Dag to Tristan in wonder. Tristan just smirked at the younger knight and continued eating without saying another word.

XxX

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